


the shoe might fit

by sophh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Evil Author's Day 2021, F/M, Gen, Snippet, THIS IS GEN'S FAULT, sometimes I write long things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29478291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophh/pseuds/sophh
Summary: In which Mary Macdonald and Antonin Dolohov are neighbours, and a quick trip to deliver a package blossoms into so much more.Incomplete: this snippet is for Evil Author's Day. ;D
Relationships: Antonin Dolohov & Mary Macdonald, Antonin Dolohov/Mary Macdonald
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2
Collections: Evil Author Musings





	the shoe might fit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlways_and_forever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlways_and_forever/gifts).



> I'm releasing a tidbit of the Mary/Antonin neighbours!AU that I've been working on for several months in honor of Evil Author's Day!
> 
> Unbeta'ed - all mistakes are my own.

Mary had gotten her neighbour's mail again. 

She looked down at the package in her hands, a box addressed to a Mr. Antonin Dolohov, and sighed. This was getting out of control. 

The last three times it happened, she merely walked the correspondence over and slipped it through the mail slot. She could hardly do the same with this, however, and she didn't want to chance leaving it outside in case it rained. The clouds overhead, grey and ominous, suggested that was a distinct possibility. 

Mary took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. It seemed that she would be meeting this neighbour of hers, whether she liked it or not. 

She made it all the way to his front steps before chickening out, her feet and hips twisting the opposite direction to return her to her own property.

"God, Mary, this isn't that hard!" she told herself sternly. "Just...walk up, ring the doorbell, and hand him the package. That's _ it! _ This isn't complicated!" 

Bolstered by this little pep talk, she wheeled around and headed back towards Antonin Dolohov's front door. As she did so, she noticed the flutter of a curtain in an upstairs window and froze. Had he been watching her? Heart racing, she willed herself to calm down. It could have been a breeze. It could have been—

There it was again. Mary was sure of it. The curtain  _ moved.  _

The package in her hands suddenly felt as though it weighed several tons, but Mary forced herself to take step after excruciating step towards the emerald green front door that now seemed to mock her. She could do this. 

She could already hear her friend Marlene's voice inside her head: "What are you so afraid of, Mary? He's just a guy who lives next to you."

Of course, it was easy for  _ Marlene _ to say that. Marlene was confident and cool—the type who could enchant men with her words as much as with her looks. Mary wasn't like that. She was just boring and plain. 

If Lily were here, she would tell Mary not to be so hard on herself, to appreciate what she had to offer and not compare herself to others. Mary repeated that to herself a few times as she finally,  _ finally,  _ made it up her neighbour's front steps once more. 

She carefully set the box down and angled her wrist to knock on the door. After another few moments of hesitation, she rapped her knuckles against the wood and waited with bated breath for an answer. 

Several minutes ticked by before the man of the house opened the door and stared at her. Mary stared right back. Her neighbour was, for lack of a better word,  _ hot. _ He had a lean build with muscular arms and impossibly long legs. Most intriguingly, however, was the tattoo that crawled up the side of his neck. Mary had seen tattoos before, of course, but none as vivid or as daring as that one. 

"Can I help you?" Antonin Dolohov asked at last. 

Mary held out the package with trembling hands—she had to will them to stop, and even then, they didn't want to cooperate. "This, er, came to my house today. I was just...walking it over." 

"Thank you," the man said. He slid the box out of her grasp and tucked it under one arm. "You could have just left it on the porch, though."

"I—yes, but I feared it might rain." Even as she said that, she could feel a light drizzle start to fall, causing her to duck her head slightly. 

Antonin put the package down somewhere that Mary couldn't see before sticking an arm outside. He laughed quietly as a few raindrops splashed onto his sinewy arm. "Seems you were right, neighbour." 

"Mary," she corrected, her voice shy. "Mary MacDonald." 

"Antonin Dolohov," he said in turn. "But I suppose you already knew that." 

Mary's cheeks heated up, but she neither confirmed nor denied his speculation. She almost couldn't, as the rain was picking up its pace, spattering noisily onto rooftops and vehicles. Her arms had moved above her head almost instantly, to provide a sort of makeshift cover, but that wasn't much help. 

Antonin said something, but his voice was too soft for Mary to hear. 

"What?" she yelled, blinking as several raindrops hit her in the face.

"I was wondering if you might like to come inside!" he shouted back. 

Mary hesitated for a moment. Her own house was just a short distance away, and yet...she was fascinated by this neighbour of hers. A crack of thunder and a bolt of lightning later, and she had her answer. She hurried inside, Antonin shut the door, and she was finally able to look around the man's living quarters. 

Her first thought was that Antonin was a  _ very _ meticulous person. The entrance hall was quite empty, almost austere, except for a small end table that held the package she had brought over. Peering into the living room, she could see that he had a bookcase full of books there, and it had been organized painstakingly. There were many dark accent pieces as well, including a black loveseat, which contrasted sharply with the white walls. 

"Can I get you some tea?" Antonin asked, and Mary stopped craning her neck to look over at him. 

"Yes, please," she said, following him into a kitchen that was an exact replica of hers in its design. It was decorated much differently, however. Whereas Mary showcased her teapot collection (the Blue Willow-patterned ones were her favorite) on open shelves, Antonin kept everything confined to the cabinets, which were made of a dark, expensive-looking wood—possibly cherry. Even the counters were bare. In fact, there really wasn't  _ any _ decor to speak of, and the only furniture in the room was a smooth wooden table with matching chairs around it. 

Mary was neat, but she wasn't anywhere near as tidy as her neighbour. Her house at least had a lived-in feel to it—Antonin's, not so much. She watched as the tattooed man put the kettle on, wondering if she should remain lingering in the doorway like a lost spirit. 

"You can take a seat," he said at last, perhaps picking up on her nervous energy which manifested itself as foot tapping and worrying the hem of her plain white blouse. 

"Thanks," she said awkwardly, pulling out a chair and lowering herself onto it with care. "I didn't want to presume…"

"Of course." Antonin did not join her at the table. Instead, he stood near the stove, staring at the kettle as if he might speed up the boiling process with only his gaze. The only time he looked away was when he set about procuring tea bags and mugs. 

Mary was tempted to make some sort of joke about watched kettles, but decided against it. Humor wasn't exactly her strong suit, and she didn't want her neighbour to think more poorly of her than he probably already did. 

The two lapsed into a silence that was not entirely uncomfortable. Finally, a few minutes later, the kettle began to whistle. Antonin removed the kettle from the stove and poured the water into two mugs, over the awaiting tea bags. (Mary tried not to notice the way his arm muscles tensed and flexed as he did this.) He then carried the mugs over to the table and sat down in the chair across from Mary. 

Mary thanked him before turning her gaze towards the window. It was still raining outside, and didn't look as if it was going to let up anytime soon. 

"Nice weather we're having." Immediately , she wished that she could take back her words—Marlene always said that talking about the weather was a major no-no when talking to guys. Marlene's  _ approved _ topics of conversation were a little more risque than the current situation called for, however. 

Antonin raised an eyebrow but otherwise failed to react to her asinine statement, and Mary wasn't sure whether to be thankful for that or not. To cover up her embarrassment, she wrapped her hands around the plain cream-colored mug he had placed in front of her. The warmth felt pleasant on her fingers, and it gave her something to focus on besides her social inadequacies. 

After another stretch of silence, during which time Mary thought  _ very _ carefully about what she might talk about next, she ventured to speak again. 

"So, Antonin, what is it that you do?" 


End file.
